iMiM'j i!fi flft iiivfi
I
j r. SCHWEIER.
THE C033TimnOS-THB UHOI-UB IBB OTOSCEXEJT Of TEE LATS.
Editor rt. Proprietor.
Vol.. XI.
MIFFLIXTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. .IANUAKY -i. 1
0.
NO. I.
M .T ' (I llicit ' H i ' . ' -V 1 VI 1 M ft . f I I . 4 III Ill III LC M .7 I 11.11 (II I I V
- ' '
; tij,
i .-.- n.jr bride,
rr I'.Li- ye told;
-1 ::.? forfc.!jd wiJd
! Mill wmm of fold.
. .kl she tLit nifiht
..vry bL-n,
:l ih- nifwn's pale iiUt
.-. IcV, I Wft'U.
A?
' V!
as' 't: :iu! y s year ai
. ., r i- ' .:! 1 n with the tide:
1 iL.; r-u'. wuu cair lio saow,
't iirlh: :".u wujc.i'.ui an J iweet,
ij si, wiil-pered her ',t "farewell;"
i-i ' jr won't lit i.g a l;t:'.e while"
Jim tit -' bw ees ivirh peaceful
uddnftfJ out on death's dark tide,
Xo liw heaven whern she waits for ai;
'r tW, n y "-'V, re? angle bride,
"j .c.'.J J:e f r a glimpse if thee!
lire! t-n!'t ":t won't be long,"
Ere'l" p;vb of wvm I Lear;
Then. 'Jt'i"ci.".iii; forth, with joyous song ;
l'!il:i Jon shore dravvn nar;
Til". I tr t"Le Hi-sstl angels sum,
"i:Yi I s" it? true 'jre onc8 niore,
4E.l l.tur Ucr'j itou welcominj;
' l':yx lie v,-rj;e of the golden shore.
THE II EI U ESS OF OAKDALE.
'0.ikJ.i'e " to be inlialiteJ at last!'
eic:a:a;eJ my faiher, with ;m heir of
at excitement, as ho eutereil the
drawig-rixiai where my mother and I
were s::t!i s.
"IaieeJ! I ain very clad to hear it,"
sa i mv mother, laying down her book.
atJ !oek:::R up to him wita aa air o
pleasftl atlvntion. "Who is coming
tiere?"
"A!:, that is the question that lias set
a!! the gwips ot the county ly tbe
ears,' replied my father. "At lirst it
wassaii! a wealthy banker had bought
it; tlien the idea of a retired nalwb was
started, and lasted for a whole week,
liat the reality is certainly romantic."
Tou have not yet told us what it
ii," observed my mother.
"A youa? girl, just eighteen, anil a
veryl.'Vely reality I am told she ia,"
WiS the reply. .Stephens and llawsoii
wrote to me about the estate six mouths
siEce, and said they had a client who
was willing to comply with all the terms
and conditions of purchase."
C it I thought he was an old Kus
sian etTicer," said my mother.
Sjuieili ii or the kind," replied my
father. "The romance is in this that
after a lor.j life at hard work, he being
an Ei. glishman. resolved to spend the
few later ear of his life In his own
com.'.ry. lie. had made a vast fortune
an! i.d one only child, a daughter,
w'nois. I am told, as beautiful and ac-cie,.'..-hed
as she is rich, lie wished
Ls ilr-itJ.-U agents to look out for an
estate ior him, money being no object:
they were to wait until one offered that
Lai all tiie advantages he wished. As
Ska as O&kdaie was advertised they
suceeede j in obtaining it, icale arrange
rs f-r lcviD7 Fnssia nnd COIDin? St
once to lake possession of his new home
le would not allow any repairs to be
C0Dia.encei!; he preferred seeing the
place as it is. and allowing his young
daughter to exhibit her taste and please
her fancy in the alterations.
"Alteiati'ins at Oakdale." interrup
ted my nii'ther, "would be simply dese
cration." "Youaie right," said my father;
lut poor ilr. Eyrie will never make
anyaUetaiioi.s. He arrived with his
daughter and suite in Loudon six weeks
ago. lney went to Honey's Hotel,
were I a:n really-sorry to say the poor
gentleman vuM to his ld, and died."
' How sa il" said my mother. "Is his
(Liiigi.ter left quite alone?"
"An old aunt, a relation of her fath
er's, is with Ler," replied my father.
"S-e is left, in fact, under her care. I
Lave just received a letter from her,
saylLg that she wiil accompany her
niece to O ikdale."
"VLat I propose doing is this: Mrs.
Vmce, the faithful old houskeeper, is
still at the hall, quits alone it is true;
but I thought if IJelle and you would
like a drive, we would go over this morn
itg, and you can arrange with her what
servants to engage. Some of the old
ones would like to come back."
"I shall like the drive," 6aid my
mother; "I never saw any spot so lovely
asOakJa'e i'arkjand lleile will enjoy
it, too."
Seed I say I felt delighted at the
prospect of a fair young neighbor,
though my heart ached for Walter Bo
tiin and Lis many cares.
The BohuLS had lived at Oakdale for
"tany generations; they were a noble,
generous, kind, but improvident race.
Sir Stephen Bohuu, after a long life of
reckless generosity and prodigal extrav
?ance, fell in the Crimea, leaving to
his son Walter the heritance of en
cumbered estate and debts of enormous
magnitude.
W hen Walter was old enongh he was
et to school, then to college, and won
Widen opinions at both places; and his
father, making a great effort purchased
for him a commission in one of the Onest
laments of cavalrv. While Walter
tud:ed and worked, his father drank
m spent; Le was obliged to raise a
wavy mortgage on his estate, lie felt
tLat deeply, but said not a word to his
n. Remorse had no good effect on
-ir Stephen; he only drowned his care
more. Heavy debts pressed upon
nun .ruin stared him in the face, when
the Cnmean war began, and he who
J! been a soldier in his youth roused
laatir at the war-cry, the old martial
P'l-it burned again within him.
Ue w rote to his son before he left
"ig.an.l, arld the next thing the young
"a heard was that his father had
fll in the hardest and best fought en-fSagf-tuent.
and that a whole nation hon
orw him as a hero, so full of courage
Md orave deeds was that short military
career.
TLe young heir came down to take
rossession. Alas! it was but a mockery
forms and deeds. There was noth
mK ',ormrn to inherit, save huge bundles
buls; the broad, fair lands of his
"'hers were heavily mortgaged; and,
rearing of Sir Stephen's death, the firm
'ho Lad advanced the money now call
d it in. '
.ily father was left as guardian to Sir
"alter, who bad then attained his
twentieth year; and long and deep were
we consultations between him and bis
joungward. There was. perhaps, no
sai force binding upon poor Walter to
KSatliet'8 debta- He miBut nave
Tr'nA lllem' an(1 uav raised the
rSe money; but he was a Iichun,
" wjom honor was far dearer than life.
f.,.1 aus young," said Walter to my
aiaer "and I must work. Others have
"J a harder fate than mine. I love my
Profession, and I must live by it."
tJvT , orange pain emote him as he
"oojlitcf selling that wbicn his an-
cestors tad doried in; there seemed,
Lowever no alternative. If the estates
were sold he would then be able to pay
o3 the debts which weighed so heavily
upon him. and to reserve ssmall income
of three hundred tier annum for himself
Xoone need know why it hasbeend.w,
and the family honor would at least In
saved.
"It is hard for you my pjjr boy,"
said my father, laying his hand upon
the bright, youna head, bowed in suoli
bitter grief before him.
Waiter was not ashamed of the tears
that he could not restrain, nor of the
heavy sobs that shook his frame, as he
finally decided upon parting with his
grand old home. If he could have pre
served the Ilall itself he would have
cared less; but he dreaded the thought
that strangers would roam over the
gardens tu which his mother had taken
such pride.
".Never mind.'" .said Walter, raising
himself and drawiug his slight graceful
ngure to its ruli ueight, "1 will waste
no more time in regret; I have my own
way to make in the world now. If I suc
ceed I shall have myself to thank; if I
ran mere wni oe none to blame me."
fo not lorget, waiter," saia my
iauier "tuai wnne i live you nave a
true and warm friend. My house is
yours wnen you choose to use it; my
wife shares my affection for you, and
Belle has always been your little sister."
"Tou are indeed kind, sir," said the
poor youtn, grasping the hand held oat
to him. I will never say I am home
loss and friendless while you live."
Waiter stayed with us until all his
affairs were arranged. The Oakdale
estate was advertisid for sale; the mort
gage money was promised within the
year; the creditors were all assured of
the speedy payment of their accounts.
Nothing remained to be dono save to
choose from many bidders the most
eligible one. This was left in my fath
er s hands. Walter wished him to un
dertake it, and he did so, arranging
with him that as stwn as the purchase
money was paid he would at ouce dis
charge every debt, and invest the sur
plus to the best advantage.
Une painful thing poor Walter was
obliged to do himself, and that was to
discharge the numerous servants, some
of whom had beeu in the family for
many ye irs.
Mrs. Vance, the stately old house
keeier, stoutly refused to move. It
was in vain Walter assured her the hall
was to be sold.
"Is it already disposed of, Sir Wal
ter?" she asked.
"Why no, not yet," he replied; "but
it will be, soon. There are several pur
chasers already in the field. "
"Then, with your permission, sir, I
will remain here until the new family
comes," said Mrs. Vance. "I was here
as maid to Iidy Bohun, your mother,
S r Walter, and I helped ti nurae you.
I have had no other home, and I will
not leave this until I am obliged to do
so."
"But, my good Mrs. Vance "
said Sir Walter.
"Excuse me, sir," interrupted the
old lady, with a stately courtly. "I
beg you will say no more. My late
honored master was a most liberal one.
I Lave saved money, and shall not re
quire to earn more. That I may be
peimitted to retain possession of my
own room is all I ask.
As all arguments was found to be
useless, Walter allowed the old lady to
have her way, and she remained the
sole occupant of the stalely old man
sion. It was perhaps well that she did
so, for her care of it knew no bounds.
Tne room was kept clean, and free from
dust ; nothing was changed or altered.
Better news came for Walter; he was
chosen from amongst his young com
p?ers to accompany the commanding
officer of the regiment abroad, wherp
he was going on a matter of great trust
and importance.
"I am sincerely glad," said my father
to him; "the total change of scene will
divert your mind from your recent
troubles; besides, it will be less trying
for you than if you had to return and
encounter tbe remarks and gossip of a
mess-room."
So our young hero bade us farewell,
promising to visit us as soon as he re
turned to England.
My father had been for many years
Sir Stephen Bohun's nearest neighbor
and most intimate friend. True, he
knew nothing of the state of his pecu
niary affairs, nor had his remonstrances
proved of any avail, when he tried, for
Walter's sake, to make his father more
careful. Sir Stephen had chosen him
for his son's guardian, because he knew
the great love my father had for the
boy.
To chosse an eligible purchaser for
Oakdale had been a great trouble and
care to my father. In Mr. Eyrie he
found all he required; and the day on
which he received the handsome sum
paid for the estate, and discharged all
the numerous and heavy liabilities of
Ids late friend, was one of the happiest
of his life.
Our drive to Oakdale was delightful;
Mrs. Vance was charmed beyond all
measure to hear ot the new-comers. All
business arrangements were soon made,
and three or four servants from the
neighboring town were engaged; fires
were lighted in the large chilly rooms.
"I think," said my father, "that af
ter all the letters I have bad from these
ladies I am bound to be at the hall to
meet them; not to stay, but just to bid
them welcome home."
My father rode away and was absent
some hours. My anxiety for his return
was very great, for I longed exceeding
ly to know something of the young
heiress.
"What is she like, papa?" x cnea as
soon as he entered the door.
"I am not a good hand at descriptions
Belle," said he, a quiet smile playing
round his lips; "but you will see her to
morrow. After a most pressing invita
tion I have promised to take your mam
ma and you over."
"Do they seem to like the place?
asked my mother,
"The young lady, Miss Eyrie, Is in
rapture with It," he replied. "I am
thankful to say that she will not even
permit a chair to be removed from its
place, still less will she allow any ma
terial alterations."
'I am so glad," I cried; "poor AVal
ter will feel it so much less than if his
old home were changed."
She shows very correct taste and
much good feeling," said my father.
"You must look to your toilette. Belle,
for our heiress understands dress, or I
am mistaken." . .,
The following day was bright and
sur.ny, and we started at noon for Oak-
d"How pleased she must be." I thought
"to own this glorious park!" It was
the beau ideal of an English home. Ihe
grand old trees, the herds of deer, the
Dicturesque glades, the waving f ragrant
jmUit little thickets and dells, the
thousands of bin's that made the air
resound w;ta then glai sou,', it must
have K en pleasant for her to know that
all thUi wa her own.
A long avenue of chestnut trees led
to the house; it was an old grey stone
bin. lmg; the lawn in the front was gay
"mi luauy-coioiv i nowets aul glisten-
ing fountains, in w-v.ch the sun clauce.l
ami sparkled. A lo i r n ghl of broad
wlnte steps led to the h ill door, and at
sooti as it was opened . 1 felt that you
were in one of "the stau'y homes of
England." The large and stately din-iug-rootu
was furnUlied all in oak, of
great value and antiquity, the lofty and
gorgeous drawing-rooms were irfect,
the whole house uas replete with every
comfort and luxury. The to .mis Wal
ter loved best, an 1 taught me to love,
were thos9 used by his young mother.
Nothing iu them had beeu disturbed
since her death. The (lowers she had
gathered were there, withered an 1 dried
the book she had been reading when
ner iatai illness seized lier lay 0:1 the
table where she had lelt it.
The tears blinded my eyes as we were
usheied into the drawing-room; every
thing spoke so strongly of the absent
brother whom I h id learned to love so
dearly.
The door opened and the old aunt en
tered. She was a quiet, kind gentle
woman, who looked as though she had
knowu suiTerini and care. She welcom
ed us kindly, and said she had sent for
Miss Eyrie, who wis somewhere in the
grounds.
A low, rippling laugh soundel just
underneath the window, and then there
came into the room the loveliest girl I
ha I ever seen iu my life.
I looked at my father; he might well
decline any description of such a face
and ligure as I saw before me. None
but a piet or piinter could do justice
to such a subject. A wealth of golden
hair that fell in ringlets was the first
thing that struck me. Then came a
face that dazzled me by its beauty. The
eyes weie of the darkest violets, foil of
light, of love, and happiness, sometimes
dreamy and tender, then sparkling and
bright; the lashes were long and black,
the brows arched and clear; the sweet
smiling lips were full and beiutifully
formed. Her voice was soft and musi
cal, with a happy, f yous cadence: and
her every movement was grace and
poetry.
Jhe welcomed my father with great
cordiality, and to my mother she was
all respectful attention. hen she
came to me, she kissed me affectionate
ly, and said, "I have been longing to
see you ever since Mr. Dacre mentioned
you yesterday. I have no sisters, and
no friends here 111 England. H ill you
be both to me?''
I said "yes:" aud I have fa thf ully
kept my word ever since.
After the proper length of time bad
elapsed, my parents rose to take leave.
"Mr. JJaere," said Miss Eyrie,"! look
upon you, I do not know why, as a kind
of guardian. I hope you will have the
kindness to join my dear aunt here in
taking care of me." .
My mother looked rather surprised at
this little impromptu address. My
father was charmed with it, and replied
111 the same frank, opsn sp rit.
"The first favor I have to beg of
you," she continued, gaily, "is, that
you will leave me your daughter for the
remainder of the day. I want some one
who knows the place to show me every
nook aud corner in it."
"1 will do so willingly," replied my
father. "I will send the carriage tor
yon, B--lle, at nine."
And a glorious day we had. As soon
as we were alone Miss Eyrie came to
me. and putting her little white jeweled
hands upon my shoulder, looked straight
into my eves, aud said, "1 know 1 shall
like vou. I might sav love you. Y'ou
have the clear, honest, true look that
always wins my heart, though I rarely
see it. Y'ou would always tell the
truth, even when it would cost you
dear."
I was almost too bewildered to reply
but she waited for no words,
"I am in a fair way for being spoiled
now," she went on. "I am rich and
alone; my aunt sees no fault in me; yet
I know I have many. Will you be my
true friend and promise never to flatter
me, but whenever you see anything
amiss to tell me of it, just as if I were
a sister of your own?"
I promised, aud have kept my word.
"One thing more," she added: "I do
not like form or ceremony; call me
Florence, and let me say; then we shall
be easy and happy."
She seemed wonderfully relieved
when I complied.
"I had a very lonely life In Russia,"
she said. "I was at school until I was
seventeen; then my poor father sent for
me, and told me he did not wish me to
form any friendships there, as our home
would soon be in England."
"Were you pleased to hear that?" I
askeiL.
"Yes." was the reply; "but I was
rather frightened too; for he told me
then how much money he had saved,
and what a grand estate he was going
to buy. Poor little tne! I quite trembl
ed at the idea of being the representa
tive of so much wealth."
"I should have liked it." said I.
'Would you?" mil Florence; "I did
not much. Then cams all the bustle of
preparation, and the long, cold journey.
You heard of my dear father's sad
death?" she added, and her bright blue
eyes filled with tears. "Now," she con
tinued, "me foici, eighteen, mistress of
Oakdale, motherless, fatherless, almost
friendless; would you change places
with me?"
"No," I replied, honestly and warm
ly; "I think being loved is the most
precious thing in the, far above money.' '
XOU are ngut, one sum, auu iu
tell me about the people who used to
live here. Why did they soil this beau
tiful place?"
Seated by her side, watching the sua
shine upon her golden hair, I told her
the story of Walter Bohun, and she was
nearly breathless with excitement when
I had finished.
"What a noble man!" she exclaimed.
"What a grand hero, Belle! Tell m8
more of him. Where is he now?"
"Abroad with Sir ITiilip Siewton," I
replied. "He will not return until next
ycHi"
"Aud you Jove him, vou say, Belle?"
"He has beeu like my own brother
ever since we were children," I replied.
"Every one loves him who knows him. "
"Oh, how I should like to know such
man a that," said Florence. "All
the people I have ever come across have
been quite commonplace. He is a
hero."
"He acted nobly," I said; "but, af
ter all, he only did what wa3 right."
"Ah, that is how you practical peo
ple talk!" she exclaimed, clasping her
lianas impatiently; as iuuusu uuun;
1 1 'lit were not at times the most diifi.
cuit thing in the world. Why, the man
who does right is a hero. "See," she
added, pointing through the open win-do-
to the noli waving; woods and glo
rious scene without,"n:any pecple.Uelle
would have done a little wrong to have
I ke-nt cn.-h fi l,.mA m,i i
! "Walter never 'foigot he was a
! !:un," said I. "He ever dreaded
Bo-
dis-
J honor far more than even
I death."
poverty or
"I3 he poor?" she asked, her b -a.iti-
fill face growing s id and crave.
"Comparatively shaking." I replied;
"but my father says Walter is sure to
regain his position iu time."
"How deeply he must have felt leav
ing Oakdale," said Florence. "I shall
always consider mvself a great usurper.
Belle."
"Nay, that you must not do," said I
"Hememlier, the money your father
paid fer this estate euabl-1 Walter to
clear his father's memory from all 6tain
of debt or dishonor."
"I am glad of that," she s lid; "but I
wish he could have had the mouey
without losing Oakdale."
My bcart wanned to her as she spoke
so gently and pityingly of my absent
friend.
"If you will come with me," I said,
"I wiil show you the two rooms Walter
valued more than all the lands."
1 took her to the rooms where his
young mother had bloomed in her youth
am! beauty; I s! owe 1 her how every
trace of that fair a'ld noble lady's pres
euee had Iwa preserved.
The tears fell fast as sin gazed upou
a little cup, half embroidered, that lay
011 the work-table nuar the window.
Was that for Iidv Bohuu's babv?"
she asked.
"Yes," I replied, "and the baby was
Walter. It is twenty years since the
happy young wife sat there working for
the child she was never to see "
"Did she never see Walter? ' inquir
ed Miss Eyrie.
"She died on the same day he was
born." I replied.
"I will never, while I live," she said
resolutely, "allow these rooms to be
touched. No one shall come near them
but Mrs. Vance, who tells me she was
Lady Bohun's owu maid. I have prom
ised her she shall never leave Oakdale
Come with me to the picture gallery,
Belle," she added, alter carefully lock
ing both doors; "show me L vly Bohun's
portrait and Sir Walter's "
We went through the long corridor i,
talking earnestly the while. At the
end of a long line of Boliuns shone the
fair face of Walter's mother.
"She was very beautiful," said Flo
rence, after gazing earnestly for some
time at the picture; "but there is some
thing in her face that seems to say she
will die young. What earnest eyes! I
could fancy she was speaking to mo. If
she could do so. I wonder what say."
I looked at her wonderingly; she was
quite seriou3 and grave. "Do you know
Belle," she added, "I feel as though I
was living in a romance or a dream.
Shall I wake and find myself in St.
Petersburg, or shall I become a Bohun
and part of all I see around me?"
"You are fanciful," I said. "Will
you come here to the library, aud see
Walter's portrait now?"
1 was proud o. mm as ro aoud be
fore it; for its beauty was of the highest
kind. The noble chivalrous face and
dark eye3 might have belonged to
Chevalier Bayard, the mouth was firm
though sweet and gentle; something of
melancholy made the features seem
older and graver than the number of
year3 warranted. She looked in silence
and turned away without speakinir,
That wa3 the I'rst of the many happy
days 1 spent at U ikdale with my new
but dearly loved friend. 1 founl her
disposition as charming as her person.
So ten months passed rapidly an I
cheerfully away, then came a change of
fortune for us. My lather, though a
gentleman of good family and position
had never been a very wealthy man. It
had required prudent management both
on his part and on mv mother's, to en
able them to keep up The Laurel's, our
pretty home, and to indulge In the lux
ury of a carriage; but now, by the death
of a distant relative, of whom we had
but seldom thought or heard, we sud
denly came into possession of a hand
some fortune.
The first thing my mother decided
upon was that a house must Le taken
for the season in town; and, for the first
time in my life, 1 saw berore me the
dazziinz vision f London caities. Flo
rence rejoiced th me, but declared it
would be utterly impossible for her to
stay at Oakdale alone; aud as her aunt
through delicate health, was unable to
travel and unwilling to change her res
idence, it was arranged that Miss Eyrl
should accompany us.
Good news, Belle," said my father,
entering the breakfast-room suddenly,
as Florence and I were discussing the
merits of Lady Lufton's ball, "who do
you think will be in Loudon to-day?"-
"I cannot guess, papa," I replied
"unless you mean Walter?"
"Y'ou are right," said he; ,-he returns
from Paris to-day; and, as his regiment
is now at Hounslow, we may hope to
see a great deal ot him."
I could net express my delight; I
turned to my companion for sympathy.
Her beautiful face looked pale and
anxious.
"Belle," she said, as my father hast
ened away "promise me one thing."
I will promise you twenty if you
will look like yourself," I replied.
'Ah, but seriously," said Florence;
"if Sir Walter Bohun coms, do not tell
him just at first that I am the heiress
of Oakdale."
"Bat why not?" I ask, in utter sur
prise. "Do promise, Belle," she said. "I
love you all so much, and you all love, him
so that I wish him to like me a little
a'so; and I believe it would ba quite im
possible for him to do so, if, 011 his re
turn home, I, by my presence here re
vive all his painful thoughts."
'What a strange ideal" I exclaimed.
"But it i. true, I am sure," said
Florence. "How can he know who I
am, and yet endure the sight of me?
Let him know me and like me tor your
sakes first, then he will not feel so bit
terly towards me."
She was so anxious and so distressed,
and so in earnest, that, sooner than
cause her pain, I promised all she re
quired, aud undertook the most difficult
task of persuading my matter-of-fact
parents to respect herwishei
Walter came on the day following;
but so improved, so handsome, and
so stately, I hardly recognized my old
playfellow. A slight shade of melan
choly only Increased the beauty of his
face.
Hal he been my father's own son he
could not have met with a warmer wel
come. His start of surprise and admir
ation when he was introduced to Flo-
ience amused me. She did indeed look
most lovely. Her white dress was plain
and worn without ornament, save one
blush rose, an emblem of herself. Her
wealth ot golden bair needed no wreath.
Another rose nestled there; and a fairer
sweeter picture of youth and beauty it
wouM Lave Deen loinossibie to fin,!
"Who is that lovely girl?" asked
inter, eagerly, as she withdrew, to
e ui lui togetner.
A friend of mm," I replied care-b-ssly,
"who is visiting us."
"A friend of yours!" he echoed.
"Why. Belle, she isa wonder, a mar
vel I have seen the beauties of Paris,
Vienna, and Madrid, bnt she surpasses
them alL What golden bait! what
violet eyesl Who is she? What is her
name?"
"Her name is Eyrie," I replied "aud
she Is an orphan. I do not know much
of her family, but I atn warmly attach
ed to her."
'No wonder," said he. "If her min 1
is 'uke her raitchless face, she must
have been made to be loved."
1 smiled at his enthusiasm; he re
mained with us the whole day, aud ac
companied us In the evening to the
opera. I say accompany us, but that
is:-figure of speech; Walter's who'e
soul was in his eyes, and they never left
the lovely blushing face of Florence.
"Do you like him, Florence?" I ask
ed as soon as we were alone.
"He is just what I expected to find
him," she reulied, a crimson flush dye
ing her fair face. "Oh Belle," she ad
ded earnestly, "how very glad I am
that he does not know me!" "
"It s.ems to me." said mv father one
day. "that Walter has a gr?at deal of
leisure time."
" I l j contrives to make it," replied
my mither, with a quitt smile. "I have
thought for some time that he was fol
lowiuga new profession with great
amor."
hat do you mcau, my dear? I do
not understand." said my father.
"Is it possible, Mr. Dacie, that you
have not observed how he employs him
self when he ls here?" said ir.y mother.
"No," was the reply; "but then I
have not your quick perception. What
is lie aoing? falling in love with my
nine iieiier '
No." said my mother, solemnly.
"He has fallen in love, but it is with
.Miss Lyrle."
My father gave veut to his feelings, I
lament to say, in a long aud most uu-
tligmtied whistle.
"1 never heard or thought of such a
thing," he gasped at length; "he must
be told the truth now: it is a very seri
ous tumg: mat will perhaps eud it all.
I'-v. that very day alter came to
lunch, and spent some time In giving
Miss Eyrie a lesson in botany. They
weie iu the conservatory, and I was
doing propriety in the drawing-room,
Lost in my own thoughts I had forgot
ten them, when I was aroused by the
sudden closinz of the door, then a zol
deu head was laid caressingly upon my
shoulder, and two little bauds clasped
me iigiitly,
"Oh Belle!" whisiiereil a sweet voice
"I am so happy! He Walter says h
loves me."
I held her to my heart and kissed her
lovipgly,
" Vad you, Floren.-e," said I;"do you
"Love him!" 6he said, lifting her
beautiful face; "why. Belle, I have done
nothing lse since you showed me bis
pctureat OakdaK I never thought
then that I should ever sf e him; but
still he seemed a living reality to me,
and tided my heart so entirely that
have had room for no one else."
"You will now be obliged to tell Lim
who you are," said I.
"Yes; and I am so frightened,' she
replied. "'Vt ill it make him love me
less? How I wish I were quite poorl"
"Think of the happiness of giving
mm L'acK Ms own Home," said 1.
"I had forgotten that, Belle," she
;a:i!. "I have only thought that he
might dislike me if lie knew I had the
home that ought to be his."
"Who could dislike you, my Florence
under any circumstances?" I asked.
"But you must confess, and that be
fore Walter has time to speak to papo
tue truth ought to come rrom you."
'I will tell him this very day, Belle,
if you will promise to stay with me,"
said Florence. "He is going to speak
to your papa to-moirow."
Sl-ie made her escape on hearing the
sound of footsteps. The door slowly
opened aud Walter came in.
"Where is Miss Eyrie?" he inquired;
and 1 looked up at him. "Ah Belle,"
he said, I see by yoar face you know
all. Am I not a happy and most fortu
nate man, to think I should win a trea
sure so priceless?"
"Y'ou have indeed chosen wisely and
well," I replied. ' Florence is lovely;
but her pure, noble heart is her greatest
charm."
"I feel it," he said; I know it"
"But, Walter," I added, gravely,
"are you quite sure you have done well
in overlooking the good things of this
world in choosing a wife? With your
name and title, you might have secured
a fortune large enough even to have
bought back Oakdale.'
"Belle," lie cried. Indignantly, "I
wonder at you! My pride and pleasure
will be to work for my darling."
Just then Florence entered the room.
little thinking who was there; the del-
kate blush that tinged her cheek as she
saw Walter seemed to enrapture him,
and he stepped forward to meet her.
"Stop!" I said. "Florence, come here
and confess your plotting, your decep
tion, your concealment."
Her fair face turned deadly pale.
"What do you mean?" said Walter,
indignantly.
I mean this. Sir Walter Bolinn. I
accuse Florence Eyrie of having deceiv
ed you most thoroughly."
"How? ' be asked, looking bewilder
ed; she clasped her hands wistfully, but
1 went on; "sue has leu you to ueneve
she is poor aud obscure, whereas she is
in truth the only child ot a millionaire,
nd heiress of Oakdale."
He rushed towards her and I left
thera together; but as I closed the door
I saw tbe golden bead laid on his breast
while she sobbed, "Oil Walter I only
feared you would never like me If you
knew who I was."
The wedding bells pealed gaily from
the old church tower wben Sir Walter
took his young bride home. Friends,
neighbors and tenants were there to
welcome thera. Old Mrs. Vance, in
all the dignity of restored oflice, headed
the train of servants, who, wearing
white favors were gatherel in thestate-
ly old hall.
A hundred voices cheered them as
the carriage stopped, and the young
husband proudly led his lovely bnJe in-1
to the home, now doubly his. The old
housekeeper in vain tried to steady her j
voice, as, with streaming eyes, sne Dens
before them, and said, "Long life and
happiness to Sir Walter and Lady
Bohonl"
Never leave home with unkind words.
I.1 fa TK1
tecllnand, wh-s relgu was- m.u--.J
by the union ot all spam mto one kin.
d"Ui. and by the dcoverv vt Aoi-tva
died, ia !!'. He was continual! v surti-
ing during the Lit two years of L Is Lf'
lue medicines he took t. restore hU
waning vigor hurt his constitution, an t
lie was sion ill with dropsy and heart
iiis. a-e. t or mouths he was taken frui
one p'.aee to another in a vain hunt f
health, and at last was stricken dov
in a small country village. Here hi
heir sent a messenger to seize the fa!!in
ie::is of government, but the dying king
rvfu.-d t- uoeive this emissary, and
said: "The crow has scented the dead
only." Ferdinand, at first, did ii'
believe that his end was near, but when
the doctors gave hini up, he showed
cool courage, received the last rites of
his church, signed his will, and a few
hours later closed his eves upon the
world in a small house belonging to a
monastery.
Charles I died in 1353. During three
long weeks the Emperor suffered terri
bly from malignant or tertian fever, ami
was at times delirious or insensible.
Philip II died in 13CW. During the
last twenty years of his life lie was more
or less troubled bv his hereditary cout.
Alwmt two years before the end a slow
fever attacked him and soon degener
ated into dropsv. A mass of corruption
and sores broke out all over him and for
ilmost two months the torture endured
was as horrible as that which the rack
ind the stake had so often inflicted
11iN.11 those accused of heresv bv l:u
oni.-r?.
The succeeding kings of Spain were
of less note in hist 017, and the particu
lars of their deatlis are not so abundant.
Philip III. became a prematurely sick
old man ami died in 1021. His con
science made a coward of him and he
fXi-laimed: "What an account I shall
have to give to Oixl! Oh, why did I
ever reign? Ah! if it pleased the Lord
to prolong my life how I should like to
live otherw ise than I have lived hitherto!
' Philip IV. expired in l'jtJ3. His lite;
was not exemplary, and when he felt its
end approach, he took care to command
that no less than one hundred thousand
masses lie said for the repose of his soul.
Charles II. was a decrepit old man at
the age of thirty-eight and died in 17tf .
His last five years were filled with
intrigues for his succession, and his con
science was so worked upon in his last
illness that he signed a will bequeathing
his kingdom to the grand-son of the
French Louis XIV. In his last mo
ment he showed more courage than
would have been expr'eted from so weak
a monarch. Iiuis I. of Spain died in
1724 of small-pox after reigning only a
f-v months during his father's abdic a
tion. and then the crown was resumed
by Philip V., whose death occurred in
17-hi. Philip V. had long been subject
to tits of melancholy; he ruined his con
stitution by a senseless way of living,
passing all day in bed and rising at
night for his meals, in time he grew so
large that he could hardly move, and at
lat lie was taker, off bv apoplenv.
Prrfr-rrl VF. 'ied inl75C after his
queen s death he buried himself in his
palace, would not eat or sleep for a long
time, and mourned m slow agony for a
whole year until his end. Charles III.
List his queen and his favorite son; to
dispel his grief he took to bun ing and
caught an inflammatory fever which
after a few davs killed him in 17n
Charles IV. died in exile in 1S1'. at
Home, where he declared he was happier
than at the Escunal. terdinand II.
was fare to face with death during his
List vear, and was carried 01T bv a
idden fit ot suffocation in 133. Joseph
Bonaparte, w ho for a time occupied the
throne of Spain, died at Florence in
HM. To consider how Spanish kings
have died is to discover one more reason
for the uneasiness of crowned heads.
Wc Are Grow in 2
Twenty-five years ago we were 30 -
00 LOOO of people; now we are near! v
50,000,000. Then we had 111 citiesand
towns of over S,000 inhabitants, now
we have 2sd of such cities and towns.
Then the total jmpulat ion of our cities
was o.tw.OOO, now it is about 12,000,-
XM.
Our coal mines then produced 14,000,-
000 tons, now 85,000,000 tons or six
tunes as much.
The iron rrodtiet amounted to 000,-
OOo tons of ore; to-day it foots up over
S,kh 1,000 tons a year, almost a nine fold
increase.
In lsild our metal industries employ
ed aliout 53,000 hands, consumed $100,
O'K i,0o0 worth of material, and turned
out about 5180,000,000 in annual pro
ducts. To-day these industries emplov 300,-
000 hands, consume 8380,000,000 of
material, and their annual product
amounts to S'JGO.OOO.OOO a year.
In 1-MiO the wood industries employed
130,000 persons; to-day they employ
S-lO.iiOO, while the value of their annual
rolucts has trebled.
The woolen industry emploved V C
pei-sons then, and now employ 100,000.
while our home mills, which prod need ;
goods of the value of 80,000,000 in IStiO, I
now turn out an annual product wortli ,
?270,OO0,000. j
I many there is cotton, in lsoo we
imported 220,000,000 vards of cotton
goods; in 1SSI we only imported 70,000,.
000 yards.
I11 the meantime the number of hands
uployed 111 American cotton mills has
cmi
increased to 200,0JO, and we export
over 150,000,000 yards of cotton goods a
,-ear, instead of importing 227,000,000
ar. Is as we used to do.
Finally, the total of our exports has
doubled
In 1800 it stood at 54.00, utxi,-
000, and uow it stands at about $000,-'
uuu.uuo.
The Beard of Charles V.
Apropos of the burial of King Alfon
70 in the Escuria!,! remember a curious
thing that occurred to me there fifte- n
or sixteen years ago. The tombs of the
Spanish kincs for I forget what reason
I had been opened. I had a courier
: with me wlin was a friend fif their
guardian, so he showed us the exposed
lnonarchs. As we were looking at
charlea y the guardian stoojied clown
aml banded the courier a pinch of the
dead em,ror-s beard and offered me
one. Not caring for these sort of
n, - ,,, snnii, 1 declined: but I
mnnnq, tw h.0.1 t accented it manv
wouItl jiave regarded it as a curiosity if
j naa 0ffcred it to thera.
Mr. Cavdle. who is a Freemason,
says that, when be goes home from
his "lod?e" after an especially con
vivial evening, te always finds the
rall!rgs inside tbe house.
1 How the SpanNh Kin -h
ami uther -
'
ALAS 1 .m tTW V
i
1 1 w,n,
sxanhnj
th.MS1
Ce-ti. n
-1 Cot':-epon!-:i; fr.ui ."-T
laiid wr;'.ej is f. 'il 'W:
A few doors further on . kt 1: i
sound of the be aim stall ,f t;e niuiirr.
ers a they kepn tim to their mournful
singing. We opened th doc aa-i et
tereiL The roota had teen pu; ia , z i-r
for the occasion and hung .th draper
ies, the end opposite the door, h-r?
the dead man was set up. being hung
with the American III. About CfLy
Indians, men, womu and children,
were seated around in the space be
tween the Cre and the counter or plat
form that runs all around the room,
clad iu their best blankets and preserv
ing a solemn decorum. The covers had
been taken from the four gaily painted
en uum Lite luur gaiy painted
rtalem posts that stood at the
of the central square ia the
pillars or
corners
room, ine dead Indian set up on the
floor as if alive, was covered with a
blanket, except his head, which wore a
crown, and near by stcod his mask and
some other fixtures. His face was
painted with red, and there was noth
ing ghastly or deathlike in its look. We
remained for some time, and were kind
ly treated. I was told that the smzin?. :
shaking of rattles and beating of long
sticks on the floor contiuues all nig'-.t.
and that when the time comes forcrema-'
tmg the body is taken out through the
opening in the roof never through the
front door and carried to the funeral
pile. Although we were in attendance
next morning at ten o'clock we were
too late to see the initial proceedings, '
for we met the mourners with their
long sticks returning from the lire, and
when we reached it, beyond the ranche
on ti e beach, the body was r.eailv con-
sumed. A pile of wood, large sticks
four or five feet long, had been laid up.
corn-cob house-wise, and a smaller pile
put inside, on which the bedv, w rapoed
in Us blanket, was laid. Lozs were
then added, above the body, crossing it is claimed that t-'!0O,0OO is an
other at the corners and lighted. A nirally expended for Christmas cards in
very great heat was thus produced, ai.d conutry.
a few Indians in attendance used long A double-headed child is the Sepsa-
poles to keep the burning sticks in place; tion of the day iu -Morgan county, Ga.
some women were seated in the crass it is reported.
not far away. There was no odor, and
complete decorum and dece.icy so far as
behavior was concerned
lieve, some com! at the cremating cus
1 oe-
tom, winch I think worthy of jM-rpetua-tlon.
After the body is burnt, the
ashes are gathered and put in a b:x or
trunk, and "deposited with the personal
possessions :n the tomb, which is erect
ed over a spot in their cemetery, and
consists of a small, square wooden
house, the four sides of the roof ruonlng
up to a leak; these toy houses, six tu
eight feet high, are pa.ly f united and
wsnt a really pictures pre appearance.
1 tued one day to make my way through
an old part of the cemetery, but I
found myself ia a regu ar jungle of
bushes and underpoAth. and could
make no head way. Ti.e old dead house3
were falling into decay, and everything
inside thein hai been siolen or bad per
ished, and grass and weeds grew up in-
?de almost ...,t!.n lcsue root. Tbe
canoes of the dead, that had beeu haul
ed up by the houses, I. a I also rotted:
rivens croaked on all sides it was
aim st dismal and funereal.
ABOIT THi: LOCKSMITH'S AKT.
An
Old Craftsman's l.;i:n-n(-
l acloiv MAd Lock Locks
lor Jails.
1 he
Fell you something about locksmiths"
ex daimed an old craftsman, dole
fully "there are none anymore. The
ti a''e is dead. Locks are all made now by
irachicery, except, perhaps, safe, anil
prison locks; those are hand-made be
cause they afford greater security than
the other kind. Time was when the
lockmaker was a smith and belli. auger
as well, and th trade was a good one
but it Is all changed now, and we dc
nothing now except repairing, or occa-;
sionally duplicating a key that has been
lost. '
1 he factory made lock has taken the
idaccof the hand made articie. and
driven us out of the business. Now, '
perhi.ps, twenty men are required to
make a lock which formerly was the
work of o".e man. These men supeiin-1
tend machinery by which certain parts
of the lock are made. One man han
dles the punch, and cuts out the tumb
lers; another makes the slides, the
springs are made by another, and so on,
until all the parts are ready to be put
together. None of these men could
make a lock without assistance from
other workmen, and they have no
knowledge of the principles of locks.
"lefore the era of machinery all
!cks were m ule by hand. That Ls why
old locksmiths understand their busi
ressso well. But there are very few
smiths of the old school in the business
row. Most of them have quit making
1 'Cks, and are making sewing machines.
The principles on which sewing ma
chines are made can be easily under
stood by any locksmith, and there if
more money to lie made 111 the new bu
siness. "Yes, the modern lock is superior tc
the old-fashioned one and for this rea
son it is I arder to pick. Tbe old lock
wa3 made to accommodate a Lirge key,
so that no matter how line the construc
tion inside an accomplished cracksman
could always get an idea of the works.
The keyhole being large he would m-
sert a wire, the eud of which being
covered with wax, would receive an
impression of the style of key required
to open the lock. It was an easy mat-
ter to make a key after tins model in
wax. so that a'most all the old locks
could be picked with but little dillicul-
tv.
"The patent lock of to-day, requiiing
a flat key, defies any attempt at picking
the works, becanse the Key hole is so
small and tbe slots are too numerous.
For that reason skeleton keys are use
less to thieves nowadays, and cracksmen
rely for success principally on their pos
session of duplicate keys.
"'Jail work,' a3 it is known to the
trade, is the only branch cf our busi
ness where machinery is not used. All
the locks for jails and penitentiaries are
made of wrought iron, aui constructed
with from two to five tumblers finished
off smooth on the inside and held to
eetber with steel screws and bras3
- a TltA narta lu.ttrM.il this iihirtcil
are absolutely air tight and the only loa'J bay was entirely burned up near
opening in the lock is the keyhole. Die?0-. A wheel tire became heat
Such a lock is as durable as can be by friction with the iron of the hay
jute rack, and ignited the hay.
"The principle of the modern lock The system of charging $500 for
is very old. I have a b"ok here which saloon and tavern licenses, and f 300 for
gives a description of a lock found lloll licenses, has proven so successful
arncug the iulns of the great temple ol round, In Plamfleld, X. J., toat a
Karnac, and which was in use more sentiment ia favor of charging still
than forty centuries ago. Tbe leading higher rates Is said to exist,
jinnclples of this lock have served as the Numerous purchases of thorough
foundation for most of the Invent'ous ol bred cart horses ia England for Amexi
recent times." can aocDunt are reported.
new in r.nitT-
1.1 ij.;
.,- t" a. :
j-.rd tv e-sctru:::?.
A uiui.Eta.:! ot err?r or? as :
:era
Hr;iii.'ya haa vIeo?3e-I
: 1 ,m. V-"-4 ux t' years.
The explosion of 1 gio1u.e stov ia.
Uutte. M. T.. cost "j;;(.i.
The E.irl of Derby has an income
:l,t."AVAlO per annum.
The last execution of tuAkers La
Boston took place m 1'iOL
The Shakers are the oldest Commu
l: t society m the L'nited Starea.
, .
77l ?y lir,t; or get into the army
u t!: ulw m -
Iowa saloon-keepers favor crohibl
lion rather than high license.
Champagne Is said to be slowly go
ing out of fashion in London.
The Crow Indians are estimated to
l e w orth 52,300 each La land.
Some Florida orange tree are
blooming for the third time this season.
Bismarck Is said to be thin and
languid, aud 4 sufferer from jaundice.
A medical Englishman prescribes a
strong solution of chromic acid for
warts.
Two or three decaved back teeth
serve to reject a recruit for the British
armv.
Montana's mines are expected to
yield this year 20.030, 000 pounds of
copper.
...7T., ,r l 16 Iamu3 'tam
u'111 ule ouier ua-v 81 l etera"
, A"e llU'k ct Egyptian unified
, " "c,u 4 'ante, cpain, uermany
Austria.
-Cnmn..-.!,, Wn.ju-.,,.!
member 'from Wisconsin, 'ouce served
as a p;iga in tiie House.
-Mine. Sembrich Ls said to have be
c ine a proticieut talker in English,
Willi four months' study.
The Milwaukee Citizens' League Ls
making a specialty of prosecuting per
sons w ho sell liquor to minors.
The Portugue.- Crown Prince is
but twenty years' old, and speaks nearly
that many different languages.
They have built a temple at Ben
ares, in India, to a lot of sacred mon
keys. Darwinism is growing.
The druggists ia Stoneham, Mass.,
are now refusing to sell li pu..r even
upoa phys;ciaii3' prescriptions.
Ex-Senator Y'ulee is accouoted tbe
wealthiest citizen of Florida, his for
tune being estimated at S3,0OVJ,.u.
It is noted as a fact, established by
r:'-r fcfirft flint i.iw fa . t,,,' "TZ M
- 1 - , ..... w . . -J 'iuim rr
an inverse ratio to the number kei.
The er tire leaf of a Methodist hymn "
book was found in the spiral of a conch
shell fished up at Jacksonville, Florida.
Mrs. Dorcas Cbapin, the widow of
Chester W. Chapm. will endow a hospi
tal at Springfield, Mass., with $23,0cO.
; The total number of admissions te
, the recent fisheries exhibition in London
reached the enormous ligure of 2,000,
0" .
A tribe of Indians having taiU
from six to eight inches in length is re
IKirted to have been discovered in Para
guay. Mischievous small bovs enrage
Bowery (N. Y'.) clothing dealers by
mixing up the placards of prices on their
sidewalk stock.
A number of capitalists have just
purchased 800 acres of land hi Pickens
county. Oa., for the purpose of quarry
ing marble.
The Crazy Jane Society is an asso
ciation that has opened a summer home
for poor children in the mountains at
Wyalasing, Fa.
Hartford, Conn., is talking abvut
using meters and charging one cent per
loo gallons for water, of which her pub
lic supply ls short.
The salary of the Archbishop of
Paris has just been cut down from fJOOO
to 50000. The Bishop of London has
$'y,(AJH and two palaces.
Yale's 'SI class cup goes to the
baby of a colored member of the class,
this youngster being the first of the race
to have the distinction.
The late Lord Overstone is said to
have been the last survivor of those
who held seats iu thehouseof commons
in the reign of George III.
The magistrates of Berlin have
concluded an agreement with the Ger
man Edison Company for the lighting
of the city by the electric light.
George Washington's autograph,
at a recent sale in Providence, It. I.,
brought 512; that of Roger Williams,
ii , and Thomas Jefferson's $1.
France has over 4.000,000 cider ap
ple trees, it is stated, and produces an
nually more than 220,000,000 gallons of
cider, the best cf which is made in Nor
mandy. A Grand Kapids Court is reported
to have awarded a Mrs. Stevens another
divorce from a man from whom she
once before divorced, but whom
she remarried.
A motion to reduce the Lord rrnr
of Dublin's salary from $15 000 to tlO
000 has been negatived. He has a larze
othcial residence. The Lord Mayor of
London has ilSOOO.
New Hampshire sends along the
first ratal skating accident report of the
season that of a young man who broke
through the ice and was drowned, the
other day, while skating on Fresh river.
While England proposes to reduce
her National debt $000,000,000 in twen
ty years, France goes on increasing:
hers. The French government is now
negotiating a loan ot ?00,000.000. The
present French debt is 15,000,000,000,
and the annua! expenditures are about
51.000,000,000.
A few days ago a wazon with its